History is Told by the Winners
by Holli
Summary: Monsters are evil. Everyone knows that. Or: Common knowledge makes a little voice that much easier to listen to. Spoilers for the No Mercy route. female!Frisk


Monsters were evil.

This was a simple fact. Even though she'd reached the point where she'd begun to question her parents beliefs, every adult she'd ever met had told her the same thing. And if that many adults could agree on something, it was probably true. The history books she'd been forced to read about the Monster War, about the magicians who'd sealed all the monsters into the depths of Mount Ebott, about what monsters could do with a human's soul—there could be no doubt. Monsters were evil.

So, when she'd fallen into the darkness passed the barrier, she'd known she was in trouble. Oddly, though, she hadn't felt afraid, not at first. Just confused. Terribly, terribly confused. Her head had felt so muzzy when she'd pushed herself up out of the patch of golden flowers, she couldn't even remember why she'd come to Mount Ebott in the first place or how she'd managed to cast herself down. Had she tripped? She must have tripped.

Lost and unable to return the way she'd come, she'd gone forward, meeting a flower monster that shot at her with "friendliness pellets" that had injured her very soul. She'd been terrified and hurt in a way she'd never realized was possible.

Then there had been the goat monster who'd saved her life, Toriel. She'd acted so nice, but there was something inside her, an inner voice, that whispered reminders that Toriel _was_ a monster and she _was_ evil, no matter how friendly she'd appeared. No matter how gently she'd held her hand and led her along.

After all, the flower monster had been friendly, too, to start with. Before it had tried to kill her.

The first Frog monster (Frogitt? How had she known that?) that had attacked her had startled her so badly, she'd lashed out with her stick without thinking. She'd watched, dumbfounded, as the thing crumbled into gray dust and drifted away.

It wasn't until Toriel had left her, armed with nothing but an ancient looking cell phone, that the other monsters had come. They'd attacked her, tried to hurt her. Had she really been supposed to _talk_ to them until Toriel came back? If Toriel had ever _planned_ on coming back—the fact that she'd had time to traverse the ruins on her own made inner voice suspicious. Had Toriel been lying? What else had the monster lied about?

Toriel had kept calling her, though. Why would she have done that if she'd planned on abandoning her? Why make small talk about flavor preferences and allergies?

Not that she'd had time to question these things, not with all the monsters she had to deal with. Her inner voice, whispering faintly, bade her to keep walking through the halls and rooms until every monster within them was nothing but dust. It had been so easy to do: to kill all those monsters, and with nothing more than a stick! A part of her marveled at the ease that she, someone so ordinary and weak, could vanquish such terrifying foes. A part of her felt ill at ease, wondering how dangerous monsters could be if _she_ could kill them so easily. But it was hard to think it through. Every time she started wondering, her inner voice would pipe up.

Not that the voice was wrong. Monsters were evil. It was a simple fact. Monsters could steal your soul. They deserved to die. They _had_ to die. And every monster she killed made her feel more capable of the task.

When she'd finally arrived at Toriel's home, stumbling onto it at last, the monster had pretended to be worried about her as it bandaged her wounds. Had claimed to have baked a pie specially for her. Although, it obviously hadn't since the monster had put both butterscotch and cinnamon in it despite asking her which flavor she preferred. It was, she'd admitted to herself, a strange thing for a monster to lie about, but monsters were evil. There was no understanding evil. Especially when evil tousled your hair after showing you to your room.

She'd been so tired, she'd actually slept in the bed the monster had provided her, waking up to the smell of butterscotch and cinnamon. After taking the piece of pie to save for later—her appetite non-existent—, she'd gone on to look around the house. Her explorations had yielded a rather small, rather comfy little house. If not for the white fur in the sink and the fact that there appeared to be no bathroom, she could have believed it had been a human home.

However, there had been some things that had made her feel uneasy. Brand name chocolate bars in the fridge—where would a monster have gotten them? A box of children's shoes in a disparity of sizes—from where, or from whom, had they come? There had also been the strange monster history book with the same, familiar story but told as though _humans_ had been the evil ones instead of the monsters. Which was clearly a lie. Monsters lied. Because they were evil. Her inner voice assured her so.

And when her inner voice wondered where the knives were, she'd assured herself it had only been an idle thought.

Then there had been the incident with the mirror. She'd looked into it, noting strangely hollowed eyes staring back at her with dull contempt. "It's me, Chara," she'd said to her reflection, but she didn't know _why_ she'd said it. That wasn't her name. At least, she didn't think it was. She'd realized at the start, of course, that her memories were confused, but she hadn't realized just _how_ confused!

She needed to get home, get out of the underground. As soon as possible.

Toriel had been reading by the fireside when she'd asked how to get out of the ruins. Although the monster had tried to distract her with snail facts, she'd remained determined. Once she'd followed Toriel down the stairs, Toriel had shown her true colors. The monster had wanted to _keep_ her down here forever! For what reason? Well, that was obvious, wasn't it? The voice had understood at once: Toriel wanted her soul and it didn't want to share with this Asgore monster.

And this hadn't been the first time Toriel had done this—where _else_ could all of the children's shoes in disparate sizes have come from? The only question was how _many_ human children the monster had killed after pretending to care for them.

The knowledge that Toriel's kindness had been nothing more than a trick to lull her into a false sense of security had filled her with rage. A part of her had so wanted to believe that Toriel had been as good as she'd been pretending to be. Wanted to believe that, maybe, _this_ particular monster hadn't been evil like all the others. After such a betrayal, it didn't surprise her at all that she'd had the strength to cut Toriel down with a single blow. At that moment, she _had_ hated the monster that much.

After that, she'd walked forward in a daze, barely noticing anything she passed, until the bridge and the skeleton who'd shaken her hand. Sans was its name. It had asked her to pretend to be human. As though a monster had any idea of what it meant to be human! The idea was amusing—certainly more amusing than the whoopee cushion handshake. Then there had been another skeleton that Sans had called brother, Papyrus, who kept nattering on about puzzles. Although a part of her thought puzzles might be fun, her inner voice reminded her that she had no time for puzzles.

There were monsters to kill. Monsters that needed to die. And she needed something more powerful than a stick. She'd found a new weapon almost immediately: pink leather gloves, thin and worn but lethal. Most monsters died with a single blow; none needed more than two. And, perhaps, some of those monsters had spoken to her, but she couldn't be certain. It had been hard to focus on anything beyond her inner voice counting down and the blood pounding in her ears.

Not that it would have mattered if any of them _had_ spoken, if any of them _had_ begged for mercy. Monsters were evil, and she was doing what needed to be done. They all had to die.

Even the monsters that looked like dogs.

The monsters' bodies crumbled and blew away, combining with the snow, as her strength increased. Never in her life had she felt so powerful. No longer did she fear these monsters in the slightest. They were nothing compared to her might. The few times a monster managed to land a blow, she had hardly felt it. The fact that they would even try to defend themselves, as though they were worthy of survival, added to her determination to eliminate every last one of them.

And yet…

She felt nothing inside. Not even the satisfaction of a job well done. Her surroundings were a blur of white snow and gray dust until, finally, the voice whispered that she'd managed to kill every monster in the area. She hadn't even questioned how she could have possibly known this: clearly, she was on a sacred quest. Then she'd arrived at the bridge where the skeletons had set up some sort of death trap for her. It truly was as the flower monster had told her: it was kill or be killed. And she wasn't going to be killed.

But then the death trap had gone away and so had Papyrus. Sans, who'd stayed behind, had given her a warning then: "if you continue down this path, you're gonna have a bad time." If it hadn't disappeared immediately afterward, she would have struck it down on the spot. How dare _it_ threaten _her_! The anger had been a nice change from the nothing, and she'd held on to it as long as she'd been able.

* * *

The town, Snowdin, had been utterly deserted. She'd entered the shop to find it deserted as well. Without even thinking, she'd started stuffing food into her pockets. Then she'd traded the ribbon she'd found back in the ruins for a bandana—it felt more fitting, somehow. It was only when she'd reached into the till to steal the gold coins that she stopped herself.

 _I'm not a thief_ , she'd thought. _I'm not a thief_. Then the whispering voice countered that the coins belonged to monsters—monsters were evil. Besides, she already had a pocket full of stolen food—what difference did it make if she took the coins as well? The monster shopkeeper (wherever it was) wasn't going to need money after it was dead. The monster had probably thought it could buy her mercy if it left things for her to take. The fool.

Walking through the empty town, the jangling of the coins in her pocket was the only sound. She was vaguely aware of passing by something that looked like a Christmas tree, but just looking at it made her feel sort of sick in the pit of her stomach. So did the pleasant, normal looking houses. Something like relief passed through her as she left the town behind, even as the fog became thick.

"HALT, HUMAN!"

That voice… the Papyrus skeleton. She paid the command no heed and continued walking.

"HEY, QUIT MOVING WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

She stopped even as the inner voice urged her on. She was… curious. That was it. Curious to see what this monster wanted to say.

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY. FIRST," The monster took a deep breath, "YOU'RE A FREAKING WEIRDO!" It stomped its foot, clearly frustrated. "NOT ONLY DO YOU NOT LIKE PUZZLES, BUT THE WAY YOU SHAMBLE ABOUT FROM PLACE TO PLACE…," it trailed off for a moment, then continued, "THE WAY YOUR HANDS ARE ALWAYS COVERED IN DUSTY POWDER…"

Involuntarily, she glanced down at her gloves. As it had said, they were coated in dust. The dust from all the monsters she'd killed. Something her inner voice refused to recognize as guilt rose in her chest. She had nothing to be guilty for! Monsters were evil! This monster would have to try harder than that!

"IT FEELS… LIKE YOUR LIFE IS GOING DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH."

Was that… sadness in its voice? _Impossible_ , her own inner voice decried. _It's playing you for a fool! Just like Toriel!_ She narrowed her eyes and tried to force down the guilt. She was nobody's fool.

"HOWEVER!" it went on grandly, the earlier sadness in its tone replaced with a grating over-confidence, "I, PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL WITHIN YOU! EVERYONE CAN BE A GREAT PERSON IF THEY TRY! AND ME, I HARDLY HAVE TO TRY AT ALL!"

Amidst its nervous sounding laughter, she pressed forward. This monster was standing in her way: either it moved, or it died. Those were the only options.

Immediately, the skeleton spoke up again, clearly annoyed. "HEY, QUIT MOVING! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!" It rubbed its jaw bone with skeletal fingers, as though in thought. Then he stood up straight and proud. "HUMAN! I THINK YOU ARE IN NEED OF GUIDANCE! SOMEONE NEEDS TO KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW! BUT WORRY NOT! I, PAPYRUS," it hesitated for a moment, then rallied, "WILL GLADLY BE YOUR FRIEND AND TUTOR! I WILL TURN YOUR LIFE RIGHT AROUND!"

It… it was offering to be her friend? After all the monsters she'd killed already? Her hands clenched inside dusty gloves, but she didn't feel angry. She felt… tired? Sad? She looked down at her hands, at the gloves. Pink gloves coated with gray dust. Dust that burned in her throat and stung her eyes.

 _It's_ lying _to you_ , her inner voice insisted, sounding less and less like her own voice. _You're a fool, letting it continue to talk. You need to kill it. Kill it before you fall for its lies!_

She took an unsteady step forward, feeling as though she were being pushed from behind. _Kill it. Kill it. KILL IT._ She took another step, then another, pushed by her own momentum. She found herself hoping, praying, that the monster would step aside, that she wouldn't have to kill it. She didn't _want_ to have to kill it.

She _would_ kill it, of course. It needed to be done.

But she didn't _want_ to.

"I SEE YOU ARE APPROACHING." Nervous, definitely nervous. It was right to be. "ARE YOU OFFERING A HUG OF ACCEPTANCE?" it asked uncertainly. Then it seemed to come to its own conclusion. "WOWIE! MY LESSONS ARE ALREADY WORKING! I, PAPYRUS, WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!" True to its word, it held out its arms wide.

She noticed, as she came close enough to battle, that its arms were trembling ever so slightly. _The fool_ , her inner voice nearly cackled. _This fight is going to be too easy._ She stopped, feeling her soul thrum as she was finally close enough to end this. _End this. End this now._

She waited for the attack, waited for her justification. But it just stood there, arms wide open, grinning down at her. It waited, watching her patiently, as what appeared to be nervous sweat gathered on its skull. It waved its hands slightly, beckoning her in for a hug.

 _What are you waiting for?_ her inner voice demanded. _Kill it. Now. Do it!_

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Why did one part of her want to kill it so badly while another part didn't want to kill it at all? It didn't make any–

She couldn't think; the voice was too loud. _Kill it! Kill it! What are you waiting for! KILL IT!_

She pressed her fists against her head. "Be quiet," she hissed.

Silence. Then: _You idiot_ , the voice said, disgusted. _You want to show mercy to this monster?_ She imagined a nasty chuckle. _You really think that will change anything? You really think you'll be forgiven?_

She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. Forgiven? But monsters were… evil, right? Killing them had been the right thing, hadn't it? Hadn't it?

Had it?

 _You really are stupid_ , the voice sneered. _If you show mercy to_ this _monster, then it stands to reason that you should have shown mercy to the others. Of course_ , it continued, cajoling, _if you come to your senses and kill this monster, you'll understand you've been 'on the straight and narrow' the entire time._

 _So, what do you want to be? A hypocrite?_ She shivered, almost feeling a hand on her shoulder, a breath touching her ear. _Or a hero?_

What did she want to be? A memory resurfaced, and she understood that the voice wanted her to answer the wrong question. It wasn't _what_ she wanted to be, but _who_.

And she knew the answer now. She lowered her fists. "I want to be Frisk."

Something like a sigh echoed in her skull before a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying fell away, leaving her feeling almost like herself again. There was guilt—quite a lot of it, and she'd done things she couldn't properly atone for, but, for now…

She offered Papyrus a tired smile and accepted his mercy.


End file.
